A student strike ends with the university replaced by a state one

A student strike in November 1960 brought a declaration of martial law and an ultimatum giving the strikers twelve hours to end their protest. They did not end it, and the government closed the university. What followed was the more permanent act. In place of the institution it had shut, the state founded a new university under its own direct control, with the appointments, the curriculum and the discipline in official hands. Haitian students had been a political force since the 1946 movement that removed Elie Lescot, and the campus was one of the few places in Port-au-Prince where people gathered for reasons the palace had not authorised. Closing it was not enough, because a closed university leaves the students at liberty and the grievance intact. Replacing it put the same young people inside a building the government owned. Within months the archbishop was accused of financing them and deported.

Ugandan nationalism was weakened from the inside by the position of Buganda. The Ganda had received privileges from the British in return for helping to establish colonial rule, and other peoples resented them for it. When the kabaka objected in 1953 to a British plan to fold his kingdom fully into a single Uganda, the colonial authorities deported him, which turned Ganda grievance into a mass movement. The British then conceded, and the 1961 constitution gave Buganda internal self-government separate from the central state. Other divisions ran alongside that one. Northerners distrusted the educated nationalists, who were mostly southern and Christian, and in the south Protestants and Catholics had been competing for office since the late nineteenth century. The Uganda National Congress, founded in 1952 and renamed the Uganda People's Congress in 1960 under Milton Obote, drew on northern and Protestant support. The Democratic Party drew on southern Catholics. The Ganda formed Kabaka Yekka. Independence was as much a contest over who would hold power afterwards as a campaign against Britain.

The first Haitian refugee boat detected in Florida arrived in 1963. Its passengers asked for asylum, were refused and were sent home. Ten years passed before another sailboat reached the state. Richman takes the dates from Alex Stepick, and those isolated arrivals stand at the head of a movement that later became the defining image of Haitian migration. Through the first half of the twentieth century Haitian workers had gone instead to Cuba, to other parts of Haiti and to the Dominican Republic, following North American investment in capitalised agriculture. In the second half of the century they went to the United States and Canada, with New York the principal destination, and also to Guadeloupe, Martinique, Quebec, Boston and Chicago. One wooden boat turned away in 1963 sits at the beginning of a sequence that put more than two hundred thousand Haitians in South Florida within two decades of the first large crossings.

The general instructions prepared by the Bureau of Inter-American Affairs before the ministerial conference on the Alliance for Progress in June 1961 set the American objective in Haiti as keeping the country in our camp, and the line of action as living with Duvalier. Dean Rusk, who called Haiti the cesspool of the western hemisphere and its government enormously repugnant, argued for support anyway, on the ground that a Castro type regime might be no worse for Haitians and would be bad for the United States. Adolph Berle argued the opposite case and lost. What Duvalier delivered was concrete. Communists in Haiti were hunted actively. He offered Eisenhower and then Kennedy a military base in Haiti to replace Guantanamo. During the missile crisis he let American ships patrol Haitian waters to enforce the blockade of Cuba. His vote at Punta del Este gave Kennedy the expulsion of Cuba from the Organization of American States.